


The Big Bad Wolf

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Horror, The company of wolves - Freeform, a little dark, lokane - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3849292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lokane red riding hood/company of wolves AU previously posted on tumblr.</p><p>Erik had always told her to never stray from the path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm now posting this as i'm finishing the last couple of chapters, it's turned out to be a little longer than I had hoped. 
> 
> This story was initially a light rating however it has gotten darker, so keep in mind this is a 'horror romance.' If there is such a thing... maybe just horror.
> 
> help. genre. 
> 
> Enjoy.

The boy was young, with his throat torn he was dead by the time they carried him back to the village.

Before him was a young woman who had strayed from the path in the woods.

The village was restless with fear and vengeance. They rallied to hunt after the beast and the boy had gone with them armed with a rifle eager to prove himself a man.

As their healer Jane often took the path through the woods to buy from the nearby town or visit her uncle Erik, a recluse and a skilled physician. Now, with all this talk of wolves, many are uneasy about sending their medic alone in the woods, so an escort is assigned to disturb her journey of peaceful solitude. Don is sweet, brawny and ultimately a fool.

Erik sees them approach through the window, Jane's expression pained as Don is seemingly explaining something that can be only gutting an animal. He opens the door to greet them hobbling and hunched over. Don eagerly complies falling for Erik's act and agrees to chop firewood while the pair laugh at Erik's ongoing trick inside the cottage.

"What a silly man," she sighs unloading the goodies she had brought in her basket, "I'm perfectly safe along this path."

"Bear with it Jane, at least until the wolf is caught."

"Not you too, you know you cannot blame a wolf for being a wolf," she thought it redundant to take vengeance against nature and she thought it arrogant.

"No, but there is something unnatural about these attack that make me wonder. Do you remember the stories I used to tell you?" Erik was an educated man but also a man from the woods, the world of devils and faeries are equally as real as the world of literature and science.

"I remember," she had loved those stories when she first came into Erik's care, how the weed used for bites was once a beautiful flower that fell for a huntsman, it gave up its beauty to cure the huntsman only once he was healed he no longer recognized the plant without its flower. A part of her still believes these tales but at the end of the day she maintains that a plant is a plant.

"You told me yourself the girl had been strangled before her throat was torn out. The worst wolves are hairy on the inside, dear Jane, humor this old man won't you?" He begins rummaging through his chest, tossing equipment and old trinkets aside.

She would do more than that to assure Erik's peace of mind, delving into superstition seems harmless even if a wolf is a wolf and a man is a man she would not willingly disregard Erik's advice.

"What is it?"

"Stay on the path, they cannot take you while you are on the path. And this," finally able to find what he was looking for he presents it to Jane: a thick hooded red cloak. It had belonged to his mother long ago, she once claimed it had protected her against a wolf wearing the clothes of a man. Jane agrees to wear it; taken by its charm she eagerly puts it on and agrees to bring him lunch the next day as thanks for such a well made cloak.

The Village is alight with celebration when they return. The wolf is caught and killed, so life returns to normal with drink and dance. Jane sees happy faces with wild laughter as their parade around its corpse and makes a show of beheading it. It is moments like this she knows she is too big for this place and she craves the world beyond, they are lovely people but she yearns for the world of intellect. She thinks it's rather too soon to celebrate; wolves are pack animals after all, so she turns in for the night not before refusing a dance from Don.

…

"He likes you, you know?" Darcy points out the window to Don adorned in his finest clothes, the suit his father was married in. His friends who seemed to be cheering him or perhaps making fun of the small bouquet of daisies in his hand surround him.

"Hush, he is still a boy, the love of a boy is tedious," Jane waves Darcy's comment away, she is glad for Darcy's company, she is a fair assistant and bright however there are moments where she fails to apply the proper tact.

"He looks like a grown man from here," Darcy coos.

"A ridiculous little boy in a mans body," Jane finishes packing lunch for Erik and joins Darcy by the window, her eyes bulge at the scene outside, perhaps he looked smarter, to Jane he was a boy playing dress ups, no worse, playing house. "Are those sad things flowers?" she almost felt like laughing.

"Oh yes, and I heard that his mother gave him her wedding ring too," Darcy was indeed laughing as Jane's face blanches.

"You don't think he means to… come here?"

"How did you miss that?"

Jane groans.

"You are far too clever for this place but, Jane, he is kind, and before you groan again remember the truly clever people are the ones that take happiness," Darcy's lecture did not sway Jane's heart, for her marriage did not seem like happiness, she did not see the same passion in it as she does for medicine or the pursuit of knowledge.

Her attempt to avoid Don does not end in her favor, feeling pressured from Darcy and Don's giggling friends she agrees to allow him to accompany her to Erik's. Politely she accepts his flowers with a grimace of a smile and places them in her basket.

Before they leave a stranger comes to the village, wealthy looking, tall, fair, with a bright handsome smile. She thinks he must have come to hunt from the look of the rifle slung over his shoulder. There aren't too many travelers that pass this way, all the faces here are familiar, even with her trips to town never has she blushed at the sight of man.

"Thor Odinson," he tips his hat to her, his gaze seems to linger on her red cloak, "I have heard rumors of wolf attacks by here."

"You came here alone for that," Don's displeasure at the stranger is transparent.

"I have lost my company," Thor's warmth is maintained much to Jane's admiration.

"You are too late if you intended to join the hunt, the wolf was caught yesterday," Jane did not miss the sadness that flickered through him, "if you wish to examine the body the farmer Joshua is in the process of mounting it."

"Thank you…?"

"Miss Jane Foster."

"Thank you Miss Foster."

"My pleasure."

Jane looks back with regret as she enters the wood, she wishes to offer to show him the way, however, she could not be late for lunch she'd hate to make her Uncle worry.

…

He did not ask the big question only if she liked him.

"I like you well enough," Jane was strong of mind but found herself unprepared for such a situation, she had lost her mother at such a tender age and so lacked the proper advice on such matters. Although she lives independently, to Erik she is still a child.

According to Darcy the whole village is expecting a wedding, she never felt more trapped. Her path, her place of peace was now far too crowded.

Don tries to kiss her by stepping in front of her and leaning down without preamble. Panicked she flees unthinking off the path and into the untamed woods.

"Jane! It's dangerous in there," he cries in his pursuit. She ducts behind a fallen tree in a ditch, praying he won't see her bright red cloak, she does not have to wait long for the sound of his heavy footsteps and his calls to die away. Closing her eyes she attunes her ears to the hum of insects, the call of wild birds and the rustle of the breeze through the treetops. The world seems infinite again and the panic subsides as her breathing returns to normal.

"Miss?"

Jumping up with a yelp she knocked into her strange new company causing her to stumble back, the man catches her arms keeping her upright and through involuntary action she grasps his coat labels drawing in their proximity. She is inches from his chest, he wore fine clothes that made her think for a moment he was Thor for he also carried a hunting rifle, only the taste in cloth was more exquisite, dark with green embroidery.

"Where did you spring from?" she blurts, the man towered above her; she had to crane her neck to see him, she was struck by the green of his eyes that seemed to hold fondness for her where there should be none. He smiles down at her and slowly he relents his hold on her and fixes her cloak to cover her shoulders. His dark hair is done smartly so unlike the grimy boys from her village, what was this gentleman doing deep in the woods? She noted before they disappeared behind his back how attractive and long his hands are, she had never cared to notice a man's hand before and twice in that day she feels herself blush.

"Did I frighten you? My apologies, it was not my intention," a voice that could convince snow to melt in the dead of winter. Jane in all her resigning to logic recalls Erik's suspicions and they begin to become her own for she feels there is something peculiar in this handsome stranger in the woods, something in the way he turns his head or how she swore he just lied to her.

"A huntsman? Lost your way?"

"Not at all, I believe it is you who has who has lost your way," there is mischief alight in his eye.

"Not at all sir," she huffs, "I do believe the path lays this way."

He turns in the direction of her pointed finger.

The devil laughs.

Perhaps she didn't know the way.

"Not quite, never fear, a gentleman would never leave a lady stranded in the woods," his bow is mocking, " Loki, at your service."

"Thank you, but I am not unfamiliar with the woods…"

"Ah," he cuts her short, "there are wolves about are there not?"

"The wolf was caught yesterday sir."

"Wolves are never without company."

"True, and where is your company?"

"I do believe I just found it."

She scoffs.

"A huntsman came to our village earlier. He was tall, fair and went under the name Odinson, perhaps he belongs to you?"

"No," he says after some consideration, "I don't know that name."

"What a shame, he had lost his company as well," the sudden tightness in his smile strengthened her unease, she eyes his offered arm and meekly she continued her interrogation, "You know the worst wolves are hairy on the inside."

"My!" he grins ear-to-ear, "a bright young lady believing in such superstition."

"It's only a saying," her cheeks burn, never had she felt so foolish, she had craved the companionship of a more civilised world and yet she was caught up in old wives tales. She takes his arm.

"Now, Miss…?"

"Jane Foster."

"Miss Jane Foster," his hand curls around hers pressing it to his arm and there is a unfamiliar flutter in her heart that falls to her stomach, "I will show you the way but not for free, share with me what you have in your basket there, I know the perfect place for a picnic along the way."

"That's for my Uncle."

"I'm sure your Uncle will be grateful enough to have his niece led back to him, he won't mind a thing or two missing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention this story hasn't been edited well, i don't have a beta for it so it is a little rough. I always overlook things.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Those of you who are on the edge for the 'mature content,' this story begins fairly tame.

Her embarrassment of speaking of wolves and superstition quickly fades as Loki provides to be an intriguing and entertaining conversationalist; tales from far beyond these woods and across the ocean that make her heart race. As their picnic continues she feels herself relaxing, her passion for knowledge unchecked she unconsciously leans towards him. Together, alone, they fall silent, in the grips of forming something unsaid that leaves them breathless. Her smile seems to infect him, to her excitement he reaches for her only to pluck a dead leaf from her hair. That mischief is alight once again is his eyes as she moves away with a nervous laugh.

"Is there somebody I should be jealous of?" Loki pulls out the bent flowers from Don, laughing at her look of disgust.

"Throw that away will you," all too gladly he obliges, "only a child thinks flowers are enough to sway a heart, I never cared too much for them anyway."

"Oh, do you not enjoy their beauty?" He lay on his side, stretched and lax. She had eaten her full and waits for him to finish. 

He eats slowly.

"I do," she dares not to look at him, she may not be blind but she can look elsewhere, "I only prefer the kind of plants that heal."

"Practical," he reaches into her basket again drawing out a bottle of wine.

"Now Erik will truly be upset if that is gone," she urges him to put it away.

"Then," he brings the bottle to his lips, "I shall only have a taste," he makes an appreciative sound at the taste.

"You're not familiar with these parts," Jane states.

"What makes you think that?"

"I've never seen you around before," she swears he looks a little disheartened, travelers are so few she would have seen him or heard of him before, "how are you so certain you know the way back?"

"Ah, that," he digs into his breast pocket, "I have a compass."

"Truly! May I see?"

"Of cause," he places it in his palm and stretches it towards her snatching it back just as her fingers its metal surface.

"You're going to have to be faster than that, Miss Foster, snatch it from my hand and you may look at it for free."

Again and again she tries and fails.

She lunges at his receding hand and he sits up on his knees laughing with his clutched fist held high. Again she is reminded how small she is in their proximity as he smiles down at her frustration. She had criticized Don for being childish, and easily she could Loki just that, yet she was charmed with his boyishness and the qualities of maturity she had long craved. She felt revitalized within herself the joy of play that she had long neglected to make time for. When Darcy lectured her on the pursuit of happiness did she mean this? Somebody to play with while the world decays and turns in on itself.

She stands tugging at his closed fist. His long fingers loosely come away to reveal an empty palm, chuckling he grasps her wrist and from behind his back he announces the compass to be in his other hand.

"Why, you trickster!" Jane pounces, only this time he uses her motion to tuck her under him as she lands on her back with a yelp. He hovers over her on his elbows.

"Do you concede?" He tosses the compass over his shoulder. Surely this man was the devil himself.

"Fine!" up close she could see that he had sharp teeth, he leans closer, their chests touching and she thinks she knows what kind of price Loki might ask to see the compass. She becomes furious at her own heartbeat.

"Who needs a silly old compass when I have the path to show me where I want to go."

"Does it?" There was darkness to his tone. A challenge. A secret amusement.

"Better than your compass would."

He sits up and back on his knees to consider her words. Slowly she sits up with a peculiar disappointment of the absence of his embrace, she feels as if she had bbeen touched by passion.

"Well, let's make a bet on it shall we?" Loki retrieves his compass tucking it back into his breast pocket, "I'll find my way to your Uncle's using the compass while you walk along the dull path."

"If I get there first?"

"Your hearts desire."

"Your compass then."

"Ah, so you do want it," for a moment his expression turns wild before settling into a show of boredom, "and what shall I get?"

"Your hearts desire."

"A kiss then."

"You can hardly call that your hearts desire," color blooms in her cheeks.

"Oh, but it is."

"Fine," she says in confident giddiness, she lays her hands on his chest drawing a sharp breath from him and a smile flickers on his facade, "and the direction of the path?"

Without taking his eyes off hers he points over his shoulder.

"You're not a sore loser are you?" She pushes him on his back, snatches her basket and ignoring his directions she runs in the opposite direction. Within moments the trees clear and her feet are on the path once again.

"I knew it! That sneak."

The sky has dimmed and with great guilt she is reminded that Erik awaits.

Loki watches ablaze, lips curling at the thrills coursing through his body at the sight of her fleeing.

No, Loki was not a sore loser. He has yet to lose.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry for the roughness.
> 
> Thank you for the support. I hope you enjoy :)

Night has fallen and all seems quiet. Jane hesitates to knock on Erik's door. She is not the best liar. She'll know he'll understand running from Don's advances however, he will not be so forgiving knowing she spent all his time alone with a stranger and he will no doubt call your stupid not that she doesn't already feel that way.  _What was I thinking?_  She chastises, _flirting with a man from the woods._ Perhaps she'll say she was lost, only Loki is on his way to the cottage. She decides to send him away when he comes, after she has the compass of cause.

She knocks.

"Erik it's me."

"Come in Jane," his seems casual, unconcerned and somewhat raspy.

"Are you unwell Erik?" She calls through the door.

"Oh very," he coughs. In her years as a physician she had heard her fair share false coughs from people wanting to skirt out of duties, this one was almost believable. She would usually not think much of Erik pretending to be sick, it was his clever little trick to avoid people. Never had he played that trick on her.

"I have a herb for that," It had been a peculiar day for Jane and sensing something was wrong she pulls the axe from the chopping block and hides it under her cloak.

She opens the door to the warmth of the fireplace and Loki lounging across Erik's chair tossing that compass up in the air and catching it like he had simply grown bored of waiting for her. His fine cloth hung by the door, his gun by the window and he sat with his shirt hung slightly open as if the warmth bothered him.

"Oh, you made it," she grips the axe handle tight for Erik is nowhere in sight.

He catches the compass tucking it away; there is a wild took about him as he springs to life. Jane turns to the door but he proves, yet again, too fast for her as his arm shoots past her head and slams it shut. She yelps stumbling back into his chest feeling the vibration of his chuckle. She turns around him moving away from the door, he follows, matching her retreating step. In her terror she swings the axe.

"You're a terrible liar," he smirks catching and prying the axe from her hand, "I wonder, what gave me anyway?"

"I know a false cough when I hear one," she moves away again and he watches.

"My apologies," he leans the axe against the wall and puts his hands up in surrender, "it seems I have unintentionally scared you again, I mean no harm as I am sure you mean me no harm, only axes tend to make misunderstandings… unresolved."

She thinks he is lying again.

"Where is Erik?"

"Ah, he will be along soon," there, something in the tension in his shoulders and the way his fingers twitch towards her seems so unnatural to her.  _He wants to play_  she realizes,  _lies and cheating is his game._

"Come, take your cloak off and wait by the fire," he comes closer again. Jane remains still deciding that the best way to win is not to play. Seeing this Loki adjusts the game standing at a debatably respectable distance holding his hand out to her.

"Where is Erik?" She ignores his hand.

There is a small spasm in his hand.

"Our dear Erik," he reaches out tugging at the tie of her cloak, she feels frozen as he slips it over her shoulder and flings it on Erik's char, "was so worried he went out to search for you. It's best to stay and wait for him."

"A gentleman would have gone for him," with her cloak gone she feels bare under his stare and feeling like she may shiver she turns towards the fire thankful she can no longer see the curl of his lips. There is something odd in the fire. Silver buttons. Silver buttons from Erik's coat.

When she'd find herself missing her mother and father as a child she'd chase down Erik and beg for story. Little tales full of a hundred little thrills that would make her smile again. Little tales full of little horrors that would set her imagination aflame, she'd became a knight battling dragons and ghouls. Jane grew up educated, yes, but the world is not kind enough to let a woman fantasize, to let her chase her dream. A weed is a weed, a man is a man and a wolf is a wolf. Yet she remembers all too clearly the stories that now do not feel like just stories.  _The worst wolves are hairy on the inside_  Erik used to say,  _these wolves cannot stomach clothes and silver burns them._

She understands now the true nature of the handsome stranger.

"You are a gentleman, aren't you?" Jane turns to Loki who raises an eyebrow at her. His gaze drops to the fire with the silver buttons and his smile turns appreciative.

"Yes, I have kept my word after all and made it here first," he takes her hands brushing his thumb over her knuckles, "and you are a lady and ladies keep their promises don't they?"

There is a flutter of apprehension as it dawns on her; she had promised a kiss to a man of nightmare and blood. A man who is not really a man. A murderer. A creature from hell.

"Will you be honorable and pay me?" he flashes his teeth, "or will you not?"

Afraid to answer either way she says nothing, she thinks to ask where Erik is again only his fingertips tentatively travel across her jawline and twine into her hair. He pulls gently, tilting her head back and bringing her against his chest, humming appreciatively at the sound of her gasp he traces her bottom lip with his thumb parting them. She hardly knows what to do, she could not remember if this was any different to how Don tried to kiss her only that it felt different. She had reacted instantly pushing him away for she was not afraid of Don, she just didn't like him. For a while she had liked Loki, the smell of him, the feel of him and she had for a moment wondered if she would like the taste of him. As his lips descended on hers she thinks  _this man probably killed my uncle._

For all his boldness so far his kiss is soft, testing, it gives her a thrill, electricity that tingles and curls her toes and with feeling her melt against him he draws her closer moving his lips against hers slowly and full of wet promise.

She follows his lead as he dominates picking up the pace and building the fire. He bites, drawing blood from her bottom lip and she comes to her senses, the shock clearing her head and crying out in pain she tries to push him away. He sucks blood into his mouth before letting her go and panting they part.

"What sharp teeth you have!" She backs away towards the window and towards the gun, hoping that this time she will be fast enough.

"All the better to eat you with," his voice is gruff as he saunters towards her once more.

She is faster this time. She clips him in the shoulder and runs, hunting rifle in hand, out the door.

His howl is horrendous, she jumps, turns and the sight almost breaks her heart. Loki in pain, in tears doubled over his fingers becoming claws. He wrenches his head towards her, his eyes glowing brighter than any flame she has seen. She runs for the path.

He has found her before she can hear him; his arms are around her tackling her to the ground. He wrestles with her briefly pinning her arms down. The brightness of his eyes are gone, his claws remain curled around her wrists. The wound in his shoulder bleeds yet his strength remains.

"I suppose the time for playing gentleman is over," he says once she is calm.

"Where is Erik?" she can't stop the tears swelling. He looks at them with hunger.

"I couldn't help it," he dips his head tasting the tear from the corner of her eye, "It's my nature, Jane."

"You are part man are you not? I will always hold men accountable for their actions."

"Some men are more like wolves than I am," he whispers.

"What do you want from me?"

"That is what you should have asked from the beginning," he grins, "your hearts desire."

She had said that her hearts desire was a compass, she doesn't understand,  _What does he know of me? He couldn't possibly know what my soul cries out for day after day?_

His head snaps up just as the shot is fired. It buries into Loki's other shoulder and his howl echoes as he darts away into the night.

"Loki wait!" Thor hollers lowering his gun, he begins to chase only to falter at the sight of Jane. He curses running to her side asking if she okay.

"Yes, I am fine," she says as he helps her to sit up.

"No, you're not," he sighs taking off his coat and pulling it around her shoulders, "did he bite you?"

"P-pardon?"

"Did he bite you?" He held her eye waiting, his impatience all too clear.

"No," her lip stung, "he did not."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thank you all for reading, leaving a kudos and commenting. 
> 
> I've been trying to keep a schedule but I am chaos incarnate... so damn messy. 
> 
> enjoy :)

hey are all awake, watching in silence as Thor walks through the village with Jane in his arms, exhausted she hides her face in his chest.

Don rushes over calling her name, she flinches and as she looks up she tugs at Thor coat label. He nods understanding her silent plea.

"Give her space," he says walking past Don who follows offended. Darcy runs over relieved to see her friend alive.

"Quick, come inside," she gestures Thor to follow.

"Give her to me, I will take her, she knows me and-"

"Piss off Don!" Darcy snaps stunning him into a stupor. He watches in a fury as the three disappear inside.

It's hard telling Darcy what had happened so she doesn't, not completely and with Thor's help enough is said; Erik has died at the hands of a stranger. Darcy can sense she has been told a partial truth. She stays silent.

At Jane's request Thor stays the night, he sleeps in Darcy's bed as she sleeps with Jane. At first he is hesitant to take her offer insisting that he must find Loki (he calls him 'culprit' in the presence of Darcy) he ultimately accepts, knowing there is no way he would be able to find him now. In the way she seems relieved, he thinks she may feel safer with him around. She does, perhaps it was not rational but the night so far had sorely bent and twisted just that. A night of absolute perversion. Consumption.

"I know it is late Darcy," she says once Thor has retired, "but would you help me bathe before bed?"

She hadn't noticed until now that she is covered in dirt and her dress is torn, although she doesn't recall when that happened, only she knows that the wolf had done it.  _These wolves cannot stomach clothes._

Thor had saved her from death, perdition or whatever Loki had hungered for. She had been in shock when he carried her back to the village; now as she listens to Darcy sleep beside her she feels too tired for grief or fear, yet in that moment her heart did swell with gratitude strong enough to be mistaken for love. She did not ignore that Thor had known the beast for he had called him by name, or that these two mysterious huntsmen arrive on the same day both claiming to have lost company. One had attacked her while the other saved her. Tears glide down her cheeks and sleep follows fast behind.

He stays for the week proving to be helpful and considerate in their time of loss. Darcy, to her great annoyance had been left to deal with visitors, stopping them at the door thanking them for their consideration, promising Don to pass on his flowers only to throw them into the back yard. The girls are grateful to have Thor around. However, the gifts of condolences and sympathetic looks soon turn into suspicious glares and vicious rumors. Perhaps it was peculiar for a bachelor to live with two unwed ladies, Thor had said so on the first morning, and he opted to find lodging elsewhere is the village. Jane found herself not caring for she felt she could no longer stay, it has she who had asked him to stay until she was ready to leave. She asked if they could leave together after she had retold her encounter with Loki, excluding of cause the kiss he had won. He agreed just as Darcy joined them at the table sleepy eyed.

"Thor is staying for the week, we think that…. He… may try to return," it was not a lie she told. She was certain if she asked Darcy would follow her to the ends of the earth for the sake of employment, only Jane's blood boiled for justice or more closely vengeance.  _Once this hunger is sated_  she plots,  _I will return for you._

She needs their mystery solved before any scheme can be formed, the week passes and she cannot find time alone with the dashing huntsman who busies himself in earning his stay. Finally he makes time to answer her questions.

Darcy is out and he joins her by the window.

"I must thank you," his voice somber, "for keeping the events of that night secret."

"They'd think me mad even if they are more superstitious than some."

"I am sorry Lady Jane, you must have questions and I admit I have not been entirely prepared to answer them."

"And now?"

"I will try my best."

She looks at the man before her, his strong jaw, his thickened stubble that had grown over the week, his rough but gentle hands, his eyes never lying and never mocking. The sunlight is cast across his face and she feels she wouldn't mind being held in that warmth. He was a true gentleman, a knight, a true man of honor and she feels a flare of anger in having been previously mistaken.

"You knew him," she says finally.

"Loki is my brother," he sees her tense and quickly adds, "adopted brother."

"I do not know when his affliction began only that my parents had the ability to hide it from him. When he discovered that he was not of our blood and not of our kind he fled, his resentment of us fueling bloody mayhem across the land. I have been trying to bring him home. Jane, for all that time he was not alone and now for some reason he is," it is clear in that moment that they have both come to the same conclusion.

"You think he'll come back," she remembers sharp teeth peaking through his leer,  _your hearts desire_ he had said to her, he had wanted something more than just the taste of her flesh. His story has sadness to it but she does not lend her sympathy.

"I think so too," she surprises Thor.

"He wouldn't dare while I am here."

"I think I can help you bring your brother home," she cannot win against the wolf but she will take this opportunity to hurt him, to chain him, she can think of nothing worse than being chained.

"The risk is great Lady Jane."

"I'd rather take this risk than live in fear of every shadow cast in my path. Your brother does not dare approach you but he will dare to corner me, when he does, you will be there," the thought of seeing Loki again rattles her, a kind of anticipation, excitement and dread. She has faith in Thor; it is Thor who will end her nightmare.

There is admiration in his smile, he takes her hand fondly, they are small, frail in his own but he can see that they are skillful.

"I will see to it," he promises, "that you live without fear."

Taken aback she stares a little breathless and he finds himself suddenly a little unsure of himself.

"Ah," he pulls his hands away, "you think me strange."

"Yes," she admits with laughter, "the most pleasant kind of strange."

Darcy returns and they find themselves disappointed that moment has ended.

…

The next day she announces she is going to Erik's cottage to see if there is anything left to bury, leaving Darcy in charge who is not entirely sure about the situation but complies. Don does not.

"Let me come with you," he follows her through the village, "you'll need a man to protect you, the world is scary out there."

"I need nothing of the sort," she says firmly no longer feeling bound to politeness.

"I will come with you, after last time-"

"Especially after last time," she snaps, "I am safer without your 'protection.'"

"Jane," his voice begins to rise, "you will not speak to me that way, and no wife of mine will show such disrespect."

There, she unleashes her greatest weapon, she laughs until his cheeks are aflame with humiliation. People stop and watch them.

"Good luck finding a wife that respects you," she leaves him stunned suffering the sniggers of bystanders.

…

The path had always been a place of peace for her, now bad memories walk beside her. Thor had assured her that the wolf could not pounce on her while she walked along the path. It was not his teeth or claws that made her shiver, it was how easily he had charmed her, how he had made her blush and want.

_Hearts desire_

She stops, trying to calm her beating heart, the world spins so she closes her eyes concentrating on the breeze, following it with her mind across tree tops into the infinite sky and she can breath again.

A twig snaps, she jumps at the sound her eyes wide open.

"It seems I've startled you," Loki stands just off the path, cordial and once again dressed finely, "my apologies."

She glares disbelieving, her fingers curling into fists she wants nothing more than to strike him.

She does.

His head wrenches to the side. He chuckles catching her retreating fist pulling it behind him so she lands against his chest with her feet off the path. In the motion his other arm curls around her waist holding her as his lips find hers. In all her fury the kiss ignites her, she squirms against him, the friction exciting them both as she tries to move the hand stuck between their connected torsos. He tries to deepen the kiss, she denies him turning her head away, unperturbed he releases her fist to dig his fingers into her hair while his tongue glides up her neck to her earlobe making her to shiver and arch towards him. With her hand free she reaches for the knife tucked in the back of her bodice. Utterly distracted with his own plans he painfully tugs her hair smothering her gasp with his tongue as he steps back pulling her with him. Feeling herself being pulled she strikes, stabbing his gut. He grunts in pain loosening his hold, she pushes him stumbling back onto the path.

Thor had told her that a wound like that would not kill him; he had survived two gunshot wounds and seemed completely unaffected after a week. She had not expected him to laugh at it, the sound of it is hollow and he looks at her with a kind of frenzy, an urgent hunger and she is all too aware she is flushed and panting.

"Come off the path," he stretches out his hand covered in his own blood.

"I know what waits for me off the path," she straightens herself, conscious of being out of his reach.

"That is why you'll come," he holds his hand steady waiting. There is intensity in the way he seems to demand her, his smile sure and lewd while blood slowly oozes from his gut, aside from this he seems unaffected by it. She concentrates on her task.

"Where is your hunting party?" keep him distracted until Thor arrives, "wolves never hunt alone."

"I'm not quite a wolf, Jane," he redirects her attention to his hand.

"You said you lost your company, who was it?"

"No need for jealously," He watches her step backwards yanking his hand away changing his demeanor and approach as he leans back against a tree.

"Every need to be cautious," she quips.

"She past," he says simply. Jane had not expected it to be a she. It made her think of the first victim, the strangled girl who had her throat torn out, nobody had known her and nobody had come to collect the body. His voice stirs her from her thoughts.

"Worried it may have been mighty Thor," his voice laced with malice

"Not at all," he turns his head away, not before she can see the pout of his lips and the annoyance etched in his brow.

"Jealous?" she teases happy to get the better of him.

"Insufferably."

"Thor told me," he faces her with a mad look in his eye, "everything."

"I doubt that," he hisses, "shame, I had hoped to tell you myself."

"I do not think you 'hoped' to talk to me at all."

He gives her a look as if you say 'you caught me,' then, with abruptness, he walks away alongside the path.

She gawks, and then remembering the plan she follows conscious still of his long reach. She's worried; she thinks Thor is taking longer than he should.

"Months ago there was a girl found strangled with her throat torn, we assumed she was a runaway from town nobody claimed the body," she calls after him, his long legs proving much too fast for her and she has to jog to keep up.

He falters for a moment.

"I did."

"What happened?"

"Rabid dogs must be put down."

"Is that how you treat your partners?" she yells in disgust.

"You would not think her death so tragic if you had seen the depths of her depravity," he is disturbingly calm and she hates him for it.

"I have seen yours!"

"Not quite yet," he halts, looking down at her with promise.

"You murdered Erik," she stands tall taking him off-guard.

"He came at me first," he says darkly.

"And I shot you," unconsciously she takes a step forward, "you murdered him."

"I'm not so squeamish when it comes to getting what I want," he looks at her fresh tears with hunger.

"What could you possibly get from murdering my uncle?"

"You."

"Mad! You must be mad," she could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all if she had not taken a blow of guilt. She had not followed Erik's word. She had gone off the path. She had led the mad beast to the only family she had left.

"What to you get from the death of your dear old uncle?"

Aghast she says nothing.

"You've been thinking about leaving haven't you," he bends to her eye level, "now that your only reason for staying is gone."

She wants to hit him again, or slice him although she thinks he probably wants her to. She grits her teeth trying to bear his poison until Thor arrives.

"This is my home."

"Liar," he is smiling again, "you're too big for this town, you must know it, a clever girl with her head full of dreams of devouring the world, you don't fit here, and they know it too."

"What do you know?" she bites back.

"This isn't the first time I've been here. I've had my eye on you, Jane Foster, we are… kindred spirits."

She tries to bear it, Thor is taking too long and her feet are itching to run, all she can do is cry and wait.

"Give those tears to me," he pleas beckoning her with that bloody hand.

"No," she holds the strength in her voice.

He makes a frustrated noise akin to a growl.

"Do you know what they say about you?" He puffs his chest in an impersonation of Don, "She's weird but attractive enough. If I plow her enough she'll comply, what a pretty little wife she'll be."

He hunches over now a gossiping woman, "Pretty Jane thinks she is too good for this place, too clever to fit in, if only she had a husband to put her in her place."

"Stop it!" she cries.

No longer entertained by himself he stretches to his full height, "only they don't know where your place is."

"And you do?"

"Yes," he says all too softy, "it's with me taking that the world has to offer and making it our own. Come, Jane, play with me."

She wipes away angry tears and he looks as if she has wasted them.

"Do you still want it?" from his breast pocket he takes out the compass, "a way to find your way around the world without being trapped along the path, the freedom to leave and to feed your insatiable curiosity. Your hearts desire, Jane, I can give it to you."

He holds it out to her. For a split second his attention shifts to something down the path.

"Take it, Jane," he thrusts his hand further towards her, the intensity of his gaze boring into her, "play with me."

 _Just a little longer_ she thinks.

She hopes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, leaving a kudos and a comment. You guys have been wonderful :) 
> 
> Again, sorry for any mishaps in the chapter.

She wants it. The compass. The freedom.

Only she remembers nothing from him is ever free, she looks at the hand that offers her dreams to her and sees a honeyed trap. The bleeding from his gut has ebbed. The wounds he had dealt her are still fresh and sting her judgment.

He is grinning ear to ear as she reaches out with hesitance and just as her hand hovers closely he pulls it just out of reach. Her confusion is quickly answered seeing that spark of mischief is back in eye,  _come play with me._

She blinks, determined to be faster she takes a small step forward and swipes narrowly missing and he pulls away again. She gives him a stern look to which he raises an eyebrow. Giving into anger she takes another step then hesitates realizing he is hunched like a coiled spring. At this distance he could snatch her.

She changes her tactic, cautiously she cups his hand from underneath and ignoring the wet of his blood she gives his wrist gentle caresses. That smile of his halters, the tension in his shoulders relaxes, and with ease he gives himself to her. She draws his hand to the top of her bodice allowing his knuckles to brush her breast and the feel of his touch tingles. Engrossed his fingers stretch out to feel her skin incidentally leaving a smear of blood as her touch glides up to his palm. She snatches away the compass jumping back just as his fingers make a hook for her. Her escape is narrow, his grasp combs through the ends of her hair and he tugs pulling free a few strands causing her to yelp in pain. A little stunned he laughs.

"You're getting faster," he loops the hair around his fingers tucking into his breast pocket. A little disturbed she clutches the compass to her chest.

"Brother," Thor is finally here, she breathes a sigh of relief as he approaches from behind Loki with quiet steps and his rifle pointed steady. Loki sneers holding up his hands in mock surrender.

"You have far more talent for distracting than I had anticipated."

"You're not exactly a challenge," quickly she secures her prize in the front on her bodice and he watches with a wild stare.

"Oh, little girl, you've flirted with me. One way or another I am going to eat you."

"Enough Loki! It's time to come home," Thor demands the attention back shooting Jane a quick look.

"That is not my home," he hisses, "that is my prison."

 _Kindred spirits_  he had said and Jane begins to see why. Stunted and misunderstood in your own home, only she had Erik. How often had he watched her to see that she longed for a place were she would belong, long enough to see that she loved her uncle that she felt at home with him. The unfathomable truth strikes her; wolves are not solitary creatures. The lone wolf wants company so he had killed Erik to displace her.

"It is your home and we are your family," his expression is pained, a kind of frustrated plea as he lowers his rifle.

Thor had been severe in asking her if she had been bitten that night, the bite had been so small she thought it surely meant nothing.

"I have no family there."

How long had he waited for her to stray from the path. Did he think she would go with him after he had wronged her? Would he go for Darcy next to make sure she truly had nobody else in this world?

"I am sorry brother," from his inner pocket Thor draws out silver chain tied in a noose. Loki flinches at the sight of them. It's not her place to say, she is thinking it loudly enough, this animal was not made for domestication and neither was she. In that moment Loki silently communicates with his would be captor, nodding in Jane's direction.

"Jane," says Thor, "it's probably best if you go now."

"But," she had not thought this part through for to leave with Thor she would also have to leave with Loki, to see him put back in his kennel.

"I will come back, I swear it," at Thor's warm reassurance Loki groans, locked in their own moment they ignore him.

"Oh Jane, your not that gullible, if you were I would have- Jane!" Loki snaps seeing her turn away from him. She is no longer inclined to listen his venom or suffer his twisted favors. There is a small satisfaction in his anger.

"I'll be waiting," Loki calls as she walks away, focused on the route she doesn't look back. She did not have to take then hand of the devil to find the world she had a strong handsome angel to walk with her down the path. He would take her down the right one, no being pushed behind closed doors, away from the life of dusty trophy on a dusty shelf or as a quiet, fertile patch of earth. As she walks everything seems to fade, the dishevelment and horror seems like a distant dream. Her tears have nurtured catharsis that blooms in the soft breeze. Patches of light cast through the treetops shimmer she likens it to a pale of water catching the sun and with each step she takes she feels bathed clean.

The front yard is the same yet as she stands there it feels alien, a nagging feeling that something is out of place. Her absolving walk is over and the truth comes back to pierce her deeply. It looked untouched. The pile firewood is no more or less. The curtains are drawn with no Erik peeking through smiling at her. There is a wreath woven out of weeds and herbs hanging on Erik's door.

Flowers grow up towards the heavens, never questioning with their pretty heads full of thoughts of the light. Jane can think of nothing worse. He had remembered,  _only a child thinks flowers are enough to sway a heart,_  and Jane can only think he means to torment her. If flowers cannot sway a heart then make a crown of weeds?

She flings it into the thickets with a force that pains her arm and she cusses with frustrated tears stinging her eyes. Her fingers shake as she touches the rough surface of the door careful not the flick away the peeling paint, Erik had planed to swindle Don into repainting it for him even though she had offered to do it countlessly. He was a brilliant man stuck in a small place.

A pained howl cracks the silence bearing the same agony as the night she shot him. She rears her attention in its direction and even at this distance it still thunders and rattles her heart. She can hear undecipherable shouting as the howl fades the source of which she can only assume is Thor, and the gunshot that follows as well.

She shuts the warring brothers out of mind and she gathers all her strength to enter her uncle's tomb.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't be updating for awhile after this chapter. I will finish this story! I'm halfway there. I just don't have the time to work on it atm 
> 
> Again thanks for all the support you have all been lovely! 
> 
> This chapter may be a little duller than the others, It will pick up with the next chapter.

Turbulent memories swarm her, setting her upon unsteady feet as she enters Erik's cottage. It has been hallowed of life, the fire long since burnt out, smelling of dust and rotting fruit. In addition to leaving the wreath he must have come inside, the belongings he had left the previous night were gone. The axe remained leaning against the wall. He had moved her red cloak and folded it next to the water basin and mirror.

Jane throws out the rot amongst the things that are sure to decay, the smell lingers so she opens the window to let the bad air out. Sifting through fireplace she finds the silver buttons, as far as she can tell this is all that is left of Erik. She places them in a decorated box.

She scrubs her hands clean of ash and blood, then the knife. She is not so squeamish around blood, a healer's life is surrounded by gristle and gore, as she glances at the smear on her chest through the mirror the memory of her boldness gives her a palpitation. Never had she acted in such violence towards another, she's astonished at her own harboured flames and the trill it had given her. Using a damp cloth she wipes the blood on her chest away, from the hollow of her cleavage she glides the cloth up where he had laid his tongue, eyes closed she sighs at its cool touch.

A gunshot echoes from the world outside.

She notes it's the second and she cannot fathom what it means in the fight between the brothers. With Thor's claimed expertise on dealing with Loki she has faith that that she will not be disturbed on her journey home.

Along the edge of the mirror she sees a row of teeth picked clean, some of which sharp and clearly canine.

She drops the cloth and throws her red cloak over her shoulders. Taking Erik's good satchel she puts the box and knife inside. Not knowing what else to take she takes his handkerchief from his nightstand. To start a new life one has to let go the old, every item in the cabin holds a memory, a relic of a bright world lost and so with a heavy heart she decides to abandon it all.

Her hand halters on the doorknob. Puzzled by the rotten smell that still lingers she turns away and follows it back to the chest. On opening it she reels back, her hands cover her mouth and she tries to hold back the bile that bubbles at the back of her throat.

Two black, writhing and putrid torn fingers lay upon dry brown bloodstains. She keels over remembering how Loki had seemed bothered by the heat, that slight gleam of sweat result of his exhaustive effort to conceal his fresh kill. It occurs to her that Erik may have been alive while the beast claimed his reward from her, bleeding out in that chest alone and helpless.

She rushes out calming her thoughts in the fresh air.

The chest had been half emptied to make room for Erik, yet nothing else seems out of place in the cottage, he must have taken the contents with him.  _What could he possibly want from it? Why tear his fingers off and leave them behind?_ Erik had most likely died clutching something, Loki must have returned while his corpse was stiff and torn the item from his grasp.

Not entirely sure what she is looking for she searches in-between the dark of the trees, around the side of the cottage finding meaning in every broken twig and turned rock. The ground is soft and she slips as she turns the corner coming face to face with a clear boot print. She curses brushing the tears from her cheek and the dirt from her dress.

On top of a thick rotting stump a pile of broken bones picked clean half fallen to the ground. A shattered skull lay a little further away tilted to the side.

"Oh Erik," she crawls forward, "I'm so sorry."

It had been less than a week since the attack and even out in the open he should not have withered to bone yet, he should be more like the fingers inside. Daring herself she picks up a snapped bone dropping it immediately seeing that the marrow had been hollowed.

Scattered around by the breeze she sees slivers of his silver hair. He had said once that these creatures wouldn't swallow hair and couldn't stomach clothes. That beast must have brunt his clothes and plucked him like a chicken.

Feeling nauseous she bows her head to the ground, her hands covering her eyes.

She retraces that night; he must have come back after being shot, moved Erik from the chest, cleaned, made her a wreath, but forgot two torn fingers? No, they were left there for her, proof that she was alone, to shroud her uncles death in mystery, and to trigger her curiosity.

Cheese for the mousetrap. It matters not if he speaks the truth or a lie for in all his words he has set countless lures. She sees it now: Tales of wondrous adventures, promises of the world and making her believe he was some creature of loneliness like she was. She never thought herself so naïve, feeling foolish she wonders if this is why he chose to target her. Educated enough to be somewhat challenging but wide-eyed enough for him to ultimately win. He took his study in lies while she took hers in medicine. He is carnal hunger with teeth. He was playing with her just like playing with food. He would conquer her body and devour her soul.

The world seems much darker. The thought of meeting new people, different people once brought her excitement, now it brings her doubt and distrust. What other devils lurked out there, hidden underneath skin.

"He is gone," she breathes out, those gunshots had only one target and the air is silent. They are both gone. She has faith in Thor, a true honest gentleman whose physique did not escape her notice. She wishes their goodbye had not been so short. She wishes he hadn't promised to leave with her for she wants to believe he will keep his word. If he was to come back she wasn't sure if she could wait on a maybe. She wishes she didn't still feel slightly sorry for Loki.

"I am alone," it seems true, she knows she has Darcy, she is a good friend with a bright future and Jane feels like a anchor weighing down a ship waiting to launch.

"I'm sorry, Erik," Jane hopes death had been swift and not cruel, fear of the worst conquers her imagination she lays prostate on the earth trying to expel it from her mind.

As amber light trickles through the treetops Jane finds she is tired of obscured light, she wants to look at an open sky.

She buries him in a shallow grave and in the fading light she heads to the path with the dirt still under her nails.

…

Somebody calls her name in the dark. A strong hand with a gentle touch rests on her shoulder bringing her to her senses and for a moment she mistakes the touch to be Thor's. She looks up at Don, in the light of his lantern he seems tussled and out of place.

"What are you doing here?" She ignores the concern in his voice remembering how rudely he had spoken to her earlier.

"Gunshots, Jane, did you not hear them?" Bashfully he removes his hand and straightens himself.

"I heard them."

"Then why didn't you come back? We were worried," he takes in her disheveled state, "What have you been doing?"

"Burying my Uncle, what are you doing here?" It almost seemed like a lifetime ago, eating lunch with Darcy before heading in to hunt down the big bad wolf. She had made a fool of Don; humiliated men are the most dangerous.

"Thor asked me to see to your safely," he picks up on her cold suspicion causing a crease in his brow.

"He left?" Perhaps it was the darkness of night creeping in, an anxiety took ahold of her. She knew by experience she was not easy pray, she thought of the knife in her bag.

"Yes, he said he'd return when his business is done."

"Did he leave alone?" She felt vulnerable knowing for certain that her white knight had left her. The day had left her emotionally raw, she still felt as if she was still fighting Loki, the poison he left behind prevents any thought from coming to fruition without it's presence.

"He got the wolf if that is what you mean," says Don clearly bothered by her fixation on Thor. It crosses her that he may have come for her knowing that Thor would not be there to rescue her.

"So the beast is caged?"

"Dead, the beast is dead. He showed us the pelt himself, your uncle is revenged."

"Oh," she does not believe it. That would be far too simple for him.

"The nightmare is over, Jane, life can go on as it usually does. Come, I will take you home."

She stares at his stretched hand suppressing as shudder at what he truly offered her, the ordinary life, the kind that goes on and on. Wordlessly she sidesteps him and briskly continues down the path.

"Jane, wait!" There is anger in his voice, enough to make her jump and reach inside her bag and grasp the knife.

"Why spurn my kindness when that is all it is?" He Spits.

"I am eager to return," she says firmly, turning away.

He stops her by her wrist; with a short scream she pulls herself free pointing the knife at him. Stunned he steps back and raises his hands.

"I have not walked through hell to be cornered by you."

"Don!" a man with a lantern calls approaching them, she recognizes him as one of Don's friends, one of many whose name she never bothered to remember.

"Oh, you found her," the man says with a smile that consequently fades when he spies Jane's knife.

"What is he doing here?" Her thoughts are as rampant as her heartbeat.

"We came to find you," some part of her thinks she's being paranoid, Loki's mimic of Don rings loudly through her  _If I plow her enough she'll comply_ until this is all she can hear.

It is all an illusion; there is no safety in the right way of living.

Her senses heighten, she cannot hear the men instead she hears a ragged breath that borders on a growl and the rustling of dry leaves. She feels its presence and with a shiver she turns to see bright eyes in the dark. In the light of the full moon she can just make out its shape. A wolf sits and watches.

She doesn't question how he fooled Thor or that she knows it's him. It hardly surprises her, her slight relief to see him does.

Don is asking her to be calm, he is asking her not to struggle and she shuffles closer to the paths edge.

Conform under the weight of man or be free in the jaws of a beast. Life is laid bare on the village path, to stray away meant living in uncertainty, and not dying didn't seem like the most important thing.

She knows exactly what is waiting for her off the path.

That is why she goes.

In amongst the trees she runs towards the panting inky devil.

She knows exactly what is waiting for her, a man devoid of guilt, willing to kill for her. She doesn't have to decide between the two, she chooses herself and cares not who is the lesser of the two evils. After all she has a knife and six silver buttons, more than enough to fight her way to freedom.

"Stop," she feels her pursuer grip the end of her cloak. She pulls on the tie releasing it and she hears the man behind her grunt and stumbles into the ground.

Jane slows down, reaching out she touches an extended paw that begins to bubble under her touch. With a scream she darts away to the side turning around to see Don approach. She can see down some way his friend pick himself off the ground. Don freezes as the Loki breaks through his cocoon of fur and flesh to arise from the carcass as a man.

Loki stands nude without the beastly coat.

His slim muscular body is taut as if in pain, he stares down at his hands before looking at her with what she can only distinguish as wonderment. He coughs keeling over to spit out his canine teeth. He holds arms out towards her, and his translucent skin in the night makes him look like a spectre.

In Erik's stories the full moon is always important, under it's light it exposes and compels the savage beasts run rampant. There was something else about it, something she had forgotten, something important.

"Come away, Jane," Don inches back, slowly drawing out his hunting knife.

She glances at Loki with one unspoken demand.  _Kill him._

His smile is victorious.

There is a low growl and Jane sees a flash of movement as she turns away. She doesn't stay to watch, hoping to make it back to the safety of the path while mongrels to claw at each other. She stumbles semi blind through the trees.

There is a feel of satisfaction, she can't discern what in exactly, only that it makes her feel ill. Something is wrong. A torrent of fear and exhilaration pulses through her blood she doesn't dwell the meaning behind it.

A smile flickers across her lips as the sound of screams reaches her ears and she feels sick again. Images of cracked hollow bones and rotten fingers flash across her mind. Falling to the ground she retches harshly before vomiting.

"I had no choice," she pants, "He was going to…" going to what? The village had not been her enemy until Loki arrived. Had she caught one of his lures? Don, despite being a bore, had been her friend. Tears sting her eyes as she wonders if she was ever in any danger.

The screams subside and night is silent. She pushes down every thought to repeat one simple command over and over; Find Thor. Picking herself up and runs in the direction she assumes to be the path for true peril now hankers for her in the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be the last chapter alas there is one more til this fic is complete.
> 
> Again, I don't have a beta. I try my best to edit but there will always be things I will miss. For that I am sorry.
> 
> Hopefully there will be less of a wait for the next chapter.
> 
> Big thank you for reading, commenting and leaving a kudos. You are all rather lovely.

Find the path then find Thor. She pushes every other thought aside. Thoughts of the cruel hungry beast that hungers for her, of the lives she fed to him, of the pleasure she felt when she heard their screams, of the guilt that gnaws at her and thoughts of how soft his fur felt when she had touched his paw.

 

 

Find the path then find Thor.

 

For a moment she thought it must be a hallucination when she saw the path ahead, her eyes had adjusted to the dark she should not be able to see as well. She can feel from the blood pulsing through her body and an ache in her bones that something is not right.

 

“Woof!”  He leaps out from the dark with his fingers curled in front of her. The sound of his laugh as he throws his dead back is unmistakable. Loki had caught her. 

 

A short scream rips from her throat, she stumbles back and bolts away. He circles in front of her and she reels back again. He is smiling, happy to be playing with her once more. She stops, desperately attempting to gather her wits while he watches her with a keen eye. Yes, he is smiling, his eyes flicker to the blade still in her grasp and he shows her more of his teeth. 

 

“Did I scare you?” Loki stands before her bare, covered in blood and bits, panting like he has truly exerted himself, “you are getting faster.”

 

She had been so close to that last stretch of freedom. She feels weak, almost dizzy looking at the bloodied sight that is him, never had she seen so much blood.

 

“I am sure there have been other changes too, nothing too permanent. Yet. You would not have come to me otherwise,” he is starting to catch his breath and there is something in his eyes akin to affectionate. 

 

She hardly notices what he is saying for she can’t tear her eyes away from the thick gore coating on his slender body. She steps back as he takes a step towards her, her back bumps into the rough surface of the tree. This movement puzzles him and his smile fades. Following her gaze he laughs and makes a small embarrassed sound as if he only just realized he is covered in it. He had always approached her looking the part of a gentleman, she thinks now he is wearing his true skin for he is neither a wolf nor a man but sin incarnate.

 

“I suppose,” he says, his is expression a little pleading as he steps towards her, “I am a rather indecent to be in the company of a lady.”

 

Her eyes flicker to his, she thinks he may be trying to fool her with the way he is looking at her. She wants to tell him to stop, that she already knows he’s been lying about wanting her heart's desire. She wants to dare him to show his true hunger. She wants to fight. She doesn’t want him to look at her that way for she doesn’t know quite what it means, that giddy edge, the way he gages her reactions, a kind of joy and a kind of frustration.

 

“You don’t realize it yet,” he sighs with disappointment. 

 

“What?”

 

He ignores her question stepping into her personal space, halting only as she presses the knife to his chest halting him mid-step.

 

“Stay back,” her voice sounds weak but her threat is not empty.

 

It pleases him; he looks down at the knife and mischief ignites within him. In anger she pushes the blade harder into his chest and he laughs heartily. She is unable to tell with so such blood, she relishes in the sensation of tearing him open.

 

“That’s quite alright,” he says with a soft smile, quickly twisting the blade from her hand causing her to cry out in shock, “I will wait.”

 

He holds the knife with one hand and intertwines their fingers with the other; the warm and wet feel makes her shudder.  She is limp feeling as if she is truly at the end of the road, the game of cat and mouse is finished and now all that’s left is to feel the sting of his bite again. She wants to fight, how can she when she is so tired and no longer knows how. Loki pins her hand  to the tree next to her head  and leans in. she flinches, squeezing her eyes shut.

 

She feels only his breath as he stretches down and slips the knife back into her satchel.

 

“You hesitated, Jane,” he whispers in her ear. For a moment she doesn’t understand what he means, then she chooses not to know what he means. He releases her hand, leaving it cold, wet and trembling. She watches him retreat, unsure if she should feel relieved. 

 

“Are you going to let me go?” Jane supposes he isn’t done playing with her and hopes that means he wants to go back to their little game of trying to lure her off the path. 

 

“You came to me,” he whispers as if reminding her that he has won, as if that meant the matter was settled and there no more to say on it. 

 

“Of cause, I know” he stops her from arguing, “you wanted Don dead,” he says as if the matter is of no great importance. The murder meant nothing, her running to him as if he were a prince of a white stead meant everything. As she contradicts him she feels false, he doesn't answer her protest but looks at her as if he has caught a child lying. 

 

“Loki, are you going to let me go?” she tries not to sound scared or desperate in fear that it would further excite them, “you’ve had your fill have you not?”

 

“Ah” he flashes his teeth, curling into her space and she smells the blood from his skin, “but I have a taste for you.”

 

In a flash she reaches for the knife again only to feel his slick grasp instead, she yelps with pain and shock. His laugh turns into a sigh as he concedes space.

 

“Forgive me,” he sounds sober as he brushes his thumb over her knuckles, “in my excitement I have not behaved in the appropriate manor.”

 

Jane stares astounded, Loki had spoke of gentlemanly behavior before, the code of conduct that contradicts his true heart, the imprinted manors that covers up the ugliness of the human soul. Jane feels feeble, outside her nature, ugly and finally manages a weak “indeed,” as a response.

 

“The night has been full of terror has it not?”

 

Tears sting her eyes. She hates that she feels so small, that his false sympathy is the only comfort she can cling to.

 

“You won’t feel this way for long,” he says with a soft smile, “no more death and no more fear, cross my heart I will behave accordingly.”

 

He did not want to behave accordingly, his eyes fixate on her falling tears and he can’t help the appreciative noise that hum that escapes from his throat. Tonight is a night unlike any other; he calms himself easing his rapid heartbeat.

 

Some part of her wonders if the excitement he spoke of mirrors a cat playing with a mouse or a man lying down with his new bride. Professionally she was no stranger to the functions of anatomy yet a shiver overtook her, she closed her eyes to refrain from looking down. She shakes her head as the image of his bloody naked body appears in her minds eye.

 

“Does this mean I am to walk free?” she wonders why he would offer false comfort when he clearly likes to see her sorrow and she falls back to the theory that he wants something from her he can’t simply take, “what change of heart is this?”

 

“My heart is not changed.”

 

Is it company the wolf wants or did he want to savour his meal?

 

“That answers nothing.”

 

“Hmm,” he swings their connected hands as he ponders how to explain himself, “What do you know of the old tales of wolves and the full moon?”

 

“Er… men are compelled to turn into wolves by the full moon, it seems it is not entirely true,” Jane says carefully. What does she know? Something nags at the back of her mind, something important that she has forgotten. He stood before her under the full moon as a man yet Erik’s stories had not been wrong so far. 

 

“There is more to it, perhaps I shall tell you someday”

 

_Does that mean I will survive until tomorrow?_

 

“Ah,” he says looking at their joined hands, his demeanor changing and he speaks to her as he had done when they first met, false, with double meaning and a polite smile, “forgive me, my Lady, it seems there is blood on your hands now.”

 

“I didn’t want him dead… I…”

 

“Come with me, there will be people looking for you, for them, and they will find them for I left plenty of ‘them’ to find.”

 

The strength in her legs give out, he holds her up her arm before her knees hit the ground and leans her back against the tree for her to gain her strength back.

 

“And they will find you, guilt ridden with blood on your hands,” he is casting lures for her again: doubt, fear, isolation and guilt.

 

“I didn’t kill him,” she stands trying to shake his poison from her system.

 

“No. I did. I wonder if they will be inclined to believe you again, after all, this is the third corpse,” his hand slides down from her forearm weaving their fingers together again, “did you ever hear the story of the little boy who cried wolf?”

 

They are suspicious people devoid of the reason of enlightenment, that is who they are and it dawns on her she cannot trust them to take her side. Would they believe that Don, who was the strength and heart of the community, attacked her? Had he attacked her? All she knows is that she had felt afraid and alone.

 

“You knew I would,” he steps back pulling her gently with him she follows slowly without protest, “you knew I would tear his throat out. My heart has not changed but yours has. You imposed on another man’s fate and chose for him death.”

 

“You tried to turn me against them.”

 

“What most do not fathom is that to lie is to tell a story," she listens to him not realising she is taking slow wobbly steps, "tonight you have a choice, little girl, of what you will tell yourself. Tell yourself a story that will help to sleep, it doesn’t matter if the story is false because truth is also a form of story. Truth is just a fashionable lie, don't you think? It is not like you to adhere fashion is it?”

 

“I did not want them dead,” she says mostly to herself.

 

“You have been transformed, though you are not fully reborn for your desires remain as they were. You are still yourself only now the things that barred you from it have gone. What will you do now I wonder? Free with your monster in tow.”

 

Jane stays silent, letting him lead her away from the path, the village and the people looking for her. She wonders what he would do if she ran from him once more, she knows she should, the thought of doing so seems exhausting. She stares at their joined hands and lets one foot fall after the other. He may kill her, the village may do the same, she could fight the monster she could not take arms against her own people.

 

They walk in silence. She doesn’t realize when they stop, her mind is far from her body and she stares at nothing in particular. When she notices she is no longer moving she looks up to see him staring at her with a look of consideration, she gasps jerking her hand from his. The corners of his lips twitch with amusement.

 

“Fate has already spoken to us tonight.  You've heard it speak but do not understand it's meaning,” he says with a seriousness she is not used to.

 

“What fate?," she is far too tired to try and decipher this one, fate in her mind had always meant one thing. Death. "If I should have to make penance for me sins I would like to know.” 

 

“If you should die tonight it will not be by my hands.”

 

“If not death then what should I fear from you.”

 

 He closes his mouth and stares at her for a hard moment, “you should not fear what I offer you.”

 

“A liar’s word has no worth,” she takes a step away. He notes this with a glance, "even if it is a fashionable lie."

 

There is something pleading in his voice when he replies to her.

 

“Yes, I am the liar, the thief, the vagabond and the foul murderer,” he sighs calming himself, “I was raised a gentleman who keeps his word, I have kept my promises have I not?”

 

Had he? He had made sure she kept hers, the memory of their first kiss makes her look away and she drags her teeth over the spot he bit her.

 

“How can you call yourself a gentleman?” There are tears in her eyes again and her voice cracks while the beast who ate her uncle drenched in murder seems to take offence to that question, “What would you promise me now?”

 

“I promise to be on my best behavior.”

 

She laughs. The sound is small, hollow and over too quickly yet he can’t help but smile at the sound. After all, he is not satisfied with parts of her. He wants her all, down to her bones and further still, and he wants a smile now. He does not think her a fool after all, he killed her uncle and stripped him to the bone. She will accept his promise and play along in order to survive.

 

She  had ran to him under the full moon and her touch had changed him in the most literal sense. All of Loki’s little schemes and games he had in play before no longer matter, quite suddenly he finds himself playing for keeps. On the other hand, he knows himself to he fickle, despite all his loneliness, longing and finally finding the key to his liberation, tomorrow morning he may just kill her. Freedom may not suit him. In that moment it seems likely to him that he would want her tomorrow, the day after and the day after that.

 

“Does that include decency?” Yes, she is playing along in wait for a moment to strike. She doesn’t know what truly took place under the full moon and he wonders what she’ll do when she finally works it out.

 

The thought thrills him.

 

“It may just,” he finds her hand again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me, I keep saying this but this time it is totally true. The next chapter is definitely the last! It just keeps getting a little longer. 
> 
> I don't have a beta, I've probably made oodles of mistakes so feel free to let me know. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.

She knew, as sure as the sun rises and sets, that the snarling beast was her Prince cursed to take this form under the full moon. It was an act of love that broke the curse that night, the fact that they barely knew each other did not matter for she was fated for him and he was fated for her. She made him a man once more and he made her his queen. 

 

Loki wades into the stream, its only waist deep and disrupts the reflection on the moon on the calm water. He washes the blood from his body, picking leisurely at the parts that had dried to his skin. 

Somewhere on their walk he had found her red cloak. He had sat her on it before his bath and she had wordlessly followed his order too caught up in her own thoughts. Jane stares at the blood on her hands. When the sight becomes too much she watches the crimson melts away to show his snow white skin. She notices that he’s watching her with a pensive look and coming to her senses she quickly turns away. She sighs knowing she’ll have to answer to that later.

The shock leaves her and she begins to feel like more herself. His quiet task allows her to think without his words crawling in and molding with her thoughts. She remembers the story Erik had once told her about the wolf who broke the curse with love. She had laughed at that ‘act of love ‘ as a kid even when deep down she had believed them. 

So was that it? Did he love her? Perhaps he believed he did, mistaking it for the love of a good meal and perhaps that was enough to be considered an act of love under the power of the full moon. It was certainly not the famed true love that conquers all. If it had to be love then it is a twisted kind of love, which bends the fabric of nature and sucks the life away for the sake of its own survival. What else could it be? She knew she did not love him for she could not feel for him what she had felt for Darcy and Erik. Her insides boil with thoughts of her broken family, yet they had begun to feel like a distant memory. Was he all that she had left? As she descends further into the abyss this devil that opens his arms ready to snare her. 

This isn’t love

 

This is manipulation. He may appear to be a man but she had stabbed him with a knife earlier and now there is no mark of the wound. There is no curse broken.  
“You must be weary,” she spares him a glance thankful that he is submerged to his chin, he looks at her with bright eyes. She is, there is an ache that has spread from her feet her calves. 

“I am. You’ve finished then?” he hadn’t, there is blood still caked to his hairline, on his jawline, neck, shoulder and she wonders if there are parts missed on his back as well. He swims closer in response his eyes locked with hers. The movement is strangely peaceful and calm after such turmoil. This slow grace he is displaying puts her on edge, filled with the trepidation of starting a new game. She tells herself to be ready, that there is still a chance to win.

“You too” he says as he reaches her, his clean hands take hers and guide then down towards the water, “since you are too weary to do it yourself.”

She yelps as her fingertips touch the cool surface, she jerks back instinctively. He holds her hands still. She already feels like she is loosing bent over the water her fingers inches from the surface with their faces too close together. Thrown by this show of forcefulness she stares down at him the burst of fear subsiding as he laughs softly his breath tickles her cheek.

This isn’t love

 

“The cold won’t bother you for long,” he takes her hands with him under the surface and he sinks lower giving her space once more. At least he is having fun. 

 

She can see he has made an effort to his promise of decency, submerged to hide his nudity and his sharp hungry teeth have been caged behind thin lips. She has a feeling, gaging the way he is looking at her he is thinking of broadening the definition of decent. If it is love he has deluded himself into feeling then it is the kind that is not easily stayed, the kind that only thinks to possess. This is Jane’s arsenal. This and fairy tales, the only sense she can squeeze from this madness. 

“What else must I grow accustomed to this night?”

The way his hands run over hers does not feel decent 

“Mystery and anticipation.”

“You would keep me in the dark? I believe that was not part of your offer. The world not shadows.”

“Are you taking my offer?”

“So far you are not making it particularly appealing.”

“Am I not?” he says with an inquisitive pout. He moves the cool water up her arm gently massaging the mess away. He is slow and thorough.   
She fights to steady her heartbeat and quell the rising heat by focusing on the coolness of the water. 

“Not really,” she says peeling her gaze from his hands to look him square in the eye. By the color of her cheeks he can tell she is lying to him. He takes a moment to appreciate that she is probably trying to manipulate him and finds it all rather endearing. 

“Well then, no more shadows,” he drops her hand and reaches up, she lets him graze his wet thumb over her lip were he had bitten her all those nights ago, “that wasn’t enough to transform you completely, any enhancements you have felt are temporary.”

He draws her hand out of the water to his lips, kissing her palm lightly.

“To make you I have to make a deeper mark,” he says before darting his tongue out between her fingers then taking her pinky into his mouth he bites down. Not enough to bleed or hurt but enough to shock. 

“Hey!” she tries to jerk to hand away but he holds her wrist and playfully gnaws at her finger with a low growl. She pushes his shoulder and he easily lets go falling back in a fit of laughter. 

“Decency,” she reminds him before finishing washing her hands by herself. She had been trying not to think about it that bite and quickly it had healed, “is that the answer? Is that what I should expect?”

“I am the one under the oath of decency, what should I expect from you? I am guessing its never-ending questions.” 

“You said your curse was broken yet you are still not a man.”

“First and foremost I am me, in any shape or form. Only now the moon no longer compels me. I can walk on the path if I so choose and those other entirely silly rules my family set to contain me are gone.”

 

It was never the wolf she was afraid of. So she is responsible for unleashing Loki, a natural born killer. 

“And the hunger…?”

“If you are asking me if I’m a monster then the answer is yes,” Loki focuses on something downstream avoiding her eye.

“You were born like this?”

“Ah, more questions,” he suddenly seems bored turning his attention the sky above.

“I’ll need to sleep eventually.”

“My poor weary bride,” he says once his laughter dies.

“Bride?” She isn’t quite prepared herself for this kind of scare.

“Your feet must be sore,” that’s two questions he’s avoided, it hardly shocks Jane that he should brake this promise, she sees that he will keep a promise as long as it interests him to do so. 

“They are,” she obliges him not wanting to poke the sleeping lion.

“Allow me,” he pulls at her ankle forcing her to shift, “what kind of gentleman would I be to ignore such distress, unless you longer require that of me.”

“What are you doing?” she resists his pull, her hands on his bare chest

“Spoiling you,” He gives her a gentle kiss, too quick for her to respond, as if you say there is no use arguing this time. He sinks back down and begins to untie her shoelaces. 

“Bride?” 

“There was once a prince a long time ago…” He unlaces her shoe.

“A prince with a terrible curse,” she finishes.

“So you do know the story?” there was another question hidden in his statement, something she couldn’t answer. He pulls her shoe off and places it on the bank waiting for her to answer. 

“A variation.”

“Ah. Some say all it takes is somebody to recognize your true self, something my own brother could not do. Then there is an act of true love or a fated meeting.”

“Which one is it?”

“I had always thought that being able to recognize a person in any shape or form as an act of true love.”

“So you don’t know.”

He hesitates to answer and with one hooked finger he pulls the shoelace free. 

“Do I scare you?” 

“I am still afraid,” his crimes were too gruesome and his smile too carefree. 

He seems to approve of this with a curt nod yet his expression turns to stone. 

“Do you love Thor?”

“No,” she answers slowly. She feels something for him, she keeps this to herself noting he had openly admitted to jealously, she did not want to see the kind of ugliness that would spur.

“He loves you,” she probes carefully. 

“That he does. Love is easy. There are things far more important, things that are not always exclusive with love’

‘How do you mean?’

‘There are countless horrors born in the name of love. You can be loved dearly and abused in the same moment.’ He places her boots aside, “kindness misplaced, devotion becomes harassment, caring turns into control and passion blooms into searing hatred.” 

‘I don’t need love. I do not mind being feared,’ his hands snake under her dress gliding up to slowly peel her sock from her knee, ‘I am frightening.’

He slides the other sock away.

‘To be understood, to be accepted and still find joy with another is far more delightful than any love he would have me return to,’ 

She wonders if he knows that what he speaks of is love, or at least that is what she had expected love to be. Does he expect to ever be loved?

With his hands on her calves he lowers her feet into the water, holding her still, laughing at her when she jerks away from the cold. 

‘It will not be cold for long,’ he eyes linger on her semi-exposed legs as he rubs her feet as if to warm them under the water.

“Is that what you expect of me?”

“Expectations lead to disappointment.”

“And what happens if you are disappointed?”

“I find ways to rectify it,” he is smiling again, “is that compass still next to your… heart?”

“I thought you didn’t need it,” she battles away a blush, the compass is still in the front of her bodice. 

“I don’t,” clearly he got his answer from her. 

He pushes her skirt up to her knees to keep it dry and begins massaging her feet and calves. Gently at first, pressing lightly on those sore spots, she tries to steady her breathing and tries not to think about the reality that a naked man is caressing her bare legs. He presses harder trying to loosen the knots and she sucks in her breath bearing with the pain.

“It won’t hurt for long,” he bends down to leave a kiss upon her knee. 

“I should have taken the time to define decency,” she says as his fingers slide under her knee and his kiss continues, “I am curious to hear your definition.”

“Are we in need of a compromise?” he pulled away with a childish pout, “how disappointing.”

“What could have possibly expected from me?”

“You have turned me from the pull of the very moon, that is no small matter, it is fate that draws me from my curse. Fate has dictated that I will no longer have my eyes fixed on the distant heartless moon. They are now fixed on you, for fate made you the key to my freedom. What has given you this power I wonder?”

“I cannot say,” she feels like they are back at the beginning with nothing really changed or answered. 

“Then you should sleep on it.”

She takes a deep breath quelling the frustration, the more emotional she becomes the more malleable she is to him. Jane thinks it is time to be more assertive.

“What you want from me?” Her change in tone startles him. 

“I want you to play with me,” his smile is forlorn and she squirms as his fingers tease the base of her foot. 

“A game? What is at stake?” of cause, Jane can see her victory ahead, she feels confident that she understands her opponent enough.

“I am greedy” his hand travels up her calf, “I will take all of you.”

He leans forward kissing her knee.

“And will give you all of me,” he leans back to look her in the eye and she holds his gaze firmly. 

“And what is the game?”

“Are we not already playing it?” in one shift movement he holds one foot under his arm and mercilessly tickles the other. She screams in uncontrollable laughter landing on her back until he finally relents to her kicking. She lays limp trying to catch her breath. 

“You are no match for me, I already know your weakness.”

Loki is leering down at her, still in the water he stands between her parted legs her dress now bunched to her thighs. In a flush of anger and embarrassment she bolts upright she pushes at his shoulders for space. He chuckles obligingly moving back and holding her firsts to his chest with one hand. After a couple of unsuccessful tugs she stills, staring blankly at his smirk. 

“You’re breaking your promise.”

“Then there is no need for me to keep it.”

“There is every need.”

“Out here there are no sensibilities, no restrictions, no decency…”He curls his finger under her chin tilting her head up, “only you and me.” 

This close she can see spots of blood he missed on his face and in his hairline. She lets him bring his lips to hers for a slow wet kiss. 

“It feels nice,” he whispers before tasting her lips once more. This time she jerks her head backwards. 

“Erik.”

“That again,” he said in a huff his mouth set in a thin line, “have we not discussed this?” 

“You killed Erik.”

“In all fairness he tried to kill me first.”

“And ate him!”

“Only a little bit, it was the wolves that tore him to shreds,” re raises a finger to try and calm her, “I cannot undo what I have done, neither can you. That curse took from me my most valuable advantage. Control.”

“You killed Erik,” she repeats hopelessly.

“You should think about your options, Jane,” he backs away looking sour, “think about the blood on your hands.” 

Although she wants it badly, Jane does not know what victory looks like. She has tallied her advantages, what she should do with them remains a mystery. Lower his guard and kill him? Then brave the world alone or risk going back home? She knows that she should not want the feel on his skin on hers. 

Lashing out she kicks water at him that stuns them both. Then she does it again with more fury. 

“You missed a spot,” she spits. 

His grin returns and he hauls water back at her soaking the front of her dress. Jane growls charging into the water with her arms stretched forward. Her now heavy skits throw her off balance before she can wring his neck. He catches her only to snake his arm around her waist and plunge her under the water with that chuckle that is wearing thin on her. 

“You’re going to catch a chill like that,” he says once she has grown tired of slapping his arm in retaliation. Her eyes widen in realization and she quickly covers her chest. Loki winks at her as he wades out of the stream. She may get sick unless she removed her wet clothes. Jane’s attention lingers a little too long at his ass before she covers her eyes. 

“Come Jane,” he calls to her, “you’ll find I am quite skilled at building fires.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the last chapter. I really struggled with this one because I honestly didn't know how to finish it and for me this was the only thing i could think of doing. I had to end it though, there are other things I want to work on. sorry.
> 
> As usual no beta, I've changed and messed with this chapter it's bound to have some mistakes that I've overlooked. If it bothers you, you are welcome to help me out. If I have to look at this anymore my eyes will shrivel.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, this has been super fun and you all have been wonderful putting up with my trash :) You're awesome.

This isn't love.

Nothing speaks of fate more strongly than death.

Their fated connection broke freed him from his binds. Loki explains that it was his father's idea to keep his monstrous son in line, a cruel way to track him, no matter where he went it was only a matter of time before somebody cried wolf.

"You can turn around now," Loki bows waiting for appraisal of his newly adorned pants. She can't decide if she should think of him as resourceful or conniving. From high up in the trees he had stored a trunk. He had led her to his camp, the place he licked his wounds.

"But what shall we do with you?" he silently suggestions a crisp shirt laying on top of the trunk, "no self respecting healer should let themselves catch a chill."

Her trembling fingers are of no use, without a word he begins to unlace her. She is mostly undone when his fingers tentatively wander and trace between her shoulder blades.

"Why did you keep it so close to your heart?" his breath tickles the top of her head.

"I can manage the rest," she can blame the shivers on the cold yet she cannot face him. The compass feels heavy against her chest.

He strides away into the dark leaving his coat lying across the traveling bag.

She dresses and hangs her dress to dry. She wears his coat to cover herself more.

Unsettled by the silence and with little else to do she peeked inside the bag.

There she sees the violence of his determination. There is a small box inside, an heirloom from Erik's grandmother. A wedding ring that had been promised to her, what else would Erik cling to tightly to as death chased him into his coffin. Was this his last thoughts? Protect his ward from a union of violent hell.

She sits back down upon her red coat, drawing her satchel close to her. She reaches inside and draws the knife closer to the opening. There she waited with new determination. She pushed her guilt aside with redirected blame. Loki, the devil himself, would not liberate her he would chain her down. She won't let him

He returns some time later with silent footsteps giving her a fright by dropping firewood next to her.

"Did I frighten you?" he doesn't bother apologizing or hiding his amusement this time. He hands her a loaf he had stored in the trunk. It's stale and most likely stolen. She tears at it slowly, chewing at it until her jaw aches. Before her he begins to build the fire, he doesn't look at her and doesn't say a word. She still does her best to tuck away her bare legs adjusting the tail of his coat to cover her thighs. It forces her eyes not to wonder to the motion of his bare shoulders and his skillful hands. He catches her looking at him just as she thinks that slitting his throat would probably kill him. Is that all she had to do? Wait until he fell asleep, take that knife out then drive it into his pale neck and what then? It's too simple and Jane feels there is something missing, a nagging unsatisfied curiosity. Revenge by nature is shortsighted just like to acting upon impulsive instincts is.

"As frightening as I am," he craws over with some new determination, "being alone in this world is far more terrifying,"

He reaches up stroking her chin parting her lips with his thumb. His touch thrills her like nothing else.

"I am not frightened," she jerks away from his grip and turns her head. Relentless, methodical and cruel, truly there is no rest for the wicked. He cuts into her thoughts with such ease and uses it to bend her to his will. So, she hides her anger.

"Of course you are," he retreats back his work humming a small tune.

Just as sublime as the world could be it is vast, cruel and ugly. He had shown her that in excess. He works so hard to make her see how easily light fades, how lonely the night can be. All the intellect, bravery and strength were no match for the twisted storm clouds that sweep through with an unstoppable rage. And now her only refuge from the thunder was in the wide jaws of a smiling beast. She is scared and something else entirely, he wants her to cling to him while those sharp teeth could descend upon her at a whim.

The fire crackles and jumps to life. He looks at her silently waiting for praise and she has an audacious thought that this side of him is endearing. The side that seeks the approval and admirations he so adamantly denies needing.

"That is better, thank you."

The yellow light of the fire seems to be playing tricks. Surely she was imagining the blush on his pale features.

She doesn't yearn for the steady hatched roof back at the village now that she has the open sky. The silver lining is that now she can satisfy her curiosity starting with the one in front of her. He excites her. It's twisted and wrong, she knows that and yet she feels it coursing through her veins setting her alight. Before she kills him she thinks she can at least satisfy her curiosity after all her trouble.

He has awakened the starving beast within her that howls for the heat of his touch.

Loki shifts beside her and begins to twists the moisture from her hair, taking a deep breath she turns to slap his hands away. She stares up at him letting the coat labels fall away from her thighs.

"What are you thinking giving me a look like that?" He says tightly before swiftly capturing her lips, his tongue invades her cry of surprise as he practices tenderness with trembling fingers through her hair.

He had kissed her like he had dipped her toe in the icy water. He pulls away shortly searching her face. All of it was damnation yet she had never felt such potent curiosity.

It was a taste of the forbidden.

He leaves butterfly kisses on her cheek, forehead and jaw until she pulls his hair in impatience. He groans, he laughs and so overjoyed she can still feel his smile when they deepen their kiss. Jane doesn't care what that means all she has to feel is that warmth, his tongue sliding against hers, the longing sound he made when he pulls her onto his lap.

This is not love.

They shudder as his hands wander down her body pulling her hard against him. She squirms and rubs herself against him wanting more and wanting it fast. She's never felt like this, never his hot and never this wet. For a moment he is helpless, he stifles a growl in the crook of her neck. She feels his teeth there, she yelps and with a fist full of his hair she yanks his head back.

"No biting," she gasps.

"I can manage that much," he reaches up and pries her fingers from his hair. He brings them to his lips watching her, always watching her. The rise and fall of her breasts, her parted lips and her flushed cheeks.

"I want you," he lays her carefully on her back and draws from her a slow kiss.

"I know as much."

"Do you?" He pauses for a moment looking at her with careful consideration, "don't forget whom you are playing with, you've stopped asking me questions which means you've come to a conclusion. I look forward to finding out what that is."

He kisses down her thigh, gently spreading them apart, Jane squeezes her eyes shut and throws her hands over her mouth. She bolts upright when his breath hovers over her sex.

"What are you doing?"

"I got it, no biting," the sight of his wryly between her legs gives her a spasm and she cant help but make a slightly pleading noise. He tugs at her making her fall flat on her back as he throws her feet over his shoulder. The kiss is deep, consuming and rough. The feel of him inside her, around her, sucking and teasing her clit and the surprise of it throws her off the edge. Her climax is loud with her heels digging into his back and her fingers once more entwined in his hair.

He lies down beside her propped up on one elbow watching her come down from her high greedily licking his lips.

"Did I tell you about the first time I saw you," he unbuttons her shirt hungrily searching for the skin underneath.

"Do I want to know?" she is still trembling thinking she will sure go to hell.

"Perhaps," he settles closer, his face hovering over hers.

"It was on the road from town where I first saw you. I lay in the long grass at the side of the road exhausted after a particularly long journey."

His fingers trace downwards slipping into her sleek folds.

"My companion had long abandoned me and I was soon to discover she had too abandoned her sanity. The sun was particularly hot that day, something about the heat brings death into focus the stench of rot, swarms of insects and the slow bow blades of grass make to fiery heaven."

He is painfully hard against her, he rubs himself against her thigh as he slips another finger in.

"I heard you footsteps first, light as they were, you barely inched forward too deep in thought. I remember thinking that a small thing like you ought to hurry on home. After all, there are creatures like me laying in wait, always hungry and always dissatisfied."

He pulls his fingers out licking them clean.

There you were, with your basket of herbs and sweat dripping from your brow, you smelled like something to be savored, rich and slow cooked."

He shifts and settles between her legs undoing the ties on his pants.

"I parted the grass so I could see you better still coiled and hidden I watched you jump back at a deafening snap from the other side."

He enters her slowly catching her cry with his lips.

"The sound was cruel wasn't it? The shrill cry of a hare caught in a trap. You lay your basket to the earth and went to the bloodied thing."

He savors the moment, his eyes flutters shut and under his breath he tells her she feels good before he begins moving inside her.

"It was soft to the touch wasn't it? You patted it so tenderly before you broke its neck."

She clings to him. All the things she had heard about the duties of marriage were proving false. The pain was slight and fading. Their bodies move together as one, sweating and hot.

"A true act of kindness, you cannot free something from its trap only to let it writhe in an agonizing slow death under the relentless heat. I suppose there are many who would have done the same, yet I was stricken with awe. What a vision you were in the sunlight with death on her hands. When I approached you in the woods, you knew, you knew as soon as you saw me."

He gives her a hard almost punishing thrust, her eyes roll back he grasps her wrists holding him tightly above her head.

"I did," she answers to get him moving again, "for a moment I knew beyond reason, I saw a monster shining a light through your eyes. You couldn't hide it if you wanted too."

He lifts her hips to get a deeper angle and his thrusts become more frantic. He reaches down and strokes her, coaxing her to come again. He follows soon after, shuddering and spilling himself inside her. For a moment they lay there in silence, side by side catching their breath.

"Yet you went with me," Loki breaks the silence rolling on his side to play with her hair.

"I thought, I believed that superstition was for the ignorant," the fire continues to crackle and Jane knows she should regret what they just did.

"It wasn't superstition, it was intuition. For somebody so sheltered I wonder why you recognized my darkness so easily. I wonder what that means?

"I know what you're implying," this infuriated her and already feeling wired she slaps his hand away. She suspects he likes her because she is clever but thinks she ultimately can't win against him. Right now, he wants her to think she shares the same darkness as he does, on some level he is probably right.

"Are you saying it's not true?"

"I would sooner believe I was superstitious," she shoves at him and he pulls at her until they are somewhere between fighting and playing. The distinction hardly matters as long as they have reason to claw at each other. Between the pinching, hair pulling, proximity and tongue she is laughing thinking she is surely damned to hell.

"Is there another reason you took my arm?" he said once she had stops, his hand had slid in-between her legs once more.

"It…" she bit her lip conscious of the way she sounded, and how her thoughts were being pushed aside by the slick ministration of his fingers, "it thrilled me."

"It certainly does."

"Have you not had your fill?"

He thinks that is incredibly funny and he kisses her in-between his giggles.

"How sweet you seemed," he groans pressing himself harshly against her, "I knew I wanted you then. I knew I would have you."

It felt as if they were still playing. A game of make believe in which they were lovers, that this story ended in a happily ever after, that tomorrow was certain and that the Prince would carry his bride back to his castle. This Prince tasting her skin had only kind smiles. She can pretend he tells her the truth. That his kisses spoke of devotion not heat and hunger. That he tastes the sweat from her skin with the passion of a lover and not a carnivore.

As soon as he falls asleep Jane plans to fetch her knife and slice his throat. She thinks she'll cut off his head just in case. She's exhausted, maybe too tired for decapitation.

There is always tomorrow.

They fall asleep naked and entwined just as the fire had begins to burn out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe one day I'll come back to this guy but yeah I was stuck and I hate leaving things unfinished.
> 
> So I have never written smut before as well, I'm still learning.
> 
> Again, thank you all for reading.


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